


It's the Breathing In and Out That Counts

by Asher_Ephraim



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Basically a fluffernutter sandwich, Beach Holidays, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Islands, M/M, Mitaka Week 2018, Shore Leave, Trade wars are good and easy to win, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 16:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15392817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: Mitaka convinces Hux to finally take shore leave with him.





	It's the Breathing In and Out That Counts

“What _does_ one do on shore leave, exactly?” Armitage blurts out over dessert, eight weeks before they’re scheduled to head out.  
         “Whatever do you mean?” Dopheld asks in response.  
         “Will I need to put together a detailed itinerary? And if so, what is the focus? Is it cultural, educational, or purely leisure?”  
         Putting a fingertip against either temple, Mitaka reminds himself that Hux has never taken a vacation. “It depends on what one wants from the experience. We’re going to a small archipelago, so I doubt there will be many museums to visit.”  
         “Should I take a brief course in the local language?”  
         “Pretty much everyone speaks Basic.” He reaches a hand across the table and rests it atop Armitage’s. “But go ahead if you want to. If it’ll make you more comfortable.”  
         Later that night, in bed, Armitage turns to him. “I’m nervous,” he admits.  
         “I know. But you’ll enjoy it.”  
         “Promise?”  
         “Promise.”

 

On the first afternoon, Hux becomes entrenched in a conversation with a restaurant proprietor about galactic politics. Dopheld grimaces and keeps his focus on his grilled fish. On one hand, he’s impressed and even jealous of how proficient his boyfriend has become in the local language in two months. On the other, he’s mortified. They’re supposed to be relaxing.  
         “So, while I would concede that democracy is a tempting concept, I’d argue that its home is mostly among smaller, more homogeneous communities.”  
         The owner nods. “Granted. Oh, you should speak with my father. He used to run our trade guild.” Turning to the back of the restaurant, he shouts, “Papa!”  
          _This cannot be happening,_ Mitaka tells himself. _Surely I’m having a nightmare and we haven’t arrived yet._  
         An ancient, stooped man appears from the kitchen and hollers back, “What the hell do you want, Salim? Can’t you run your own business and leave a dottering old man to his sabacc?”  
         Waving his father over, Salim introduces Hux and the elder’s expression instantly softens. “General! What an honour! And might I take this opportunity to state how grateful I am that the First Order simplified interplanetary trade within its borders! Oh, you should have seen the negotiations, they took _years_. And the tariff wars, they’d drive you to pull your eyes out!”  
         As Hux listens eagerly to Salim’s father, the owner turns to Mitaka. “They’re in their element,” he comments in Basic.  
         “Indeed. I came here expecting a vacation.”  
         Shrugging casually, Salim posits, “It appears your husband is enjoying himself immensely.”  
         Feeling his face colour, Mitaka scrambles to explain. “We’re not married.”  
         “I do apologise. You are together, yes?”  
         “Yes. At the moment, to my great regret.”  
         “Ah, see, you speak like a married man. My wife says the same things about me.”  
         After the conversations naturally die down, Dopheld and Armitage return to their rented hut. The term really doesn’t describe where they’re staying. Although it’s small, the structure is well-built, standing at the edge of a pier jutting into a bay. A deck looks out over the ocean. The bed is fitted with silk sheets and the fresher has impressive water pressure.  
         They turn in early that first evening, taking a lazy bath in the sumptuously large tub on the deck. They wash one another’s hair and fall asleep tangled in each other’s limbs.

 

The second night they have a late dinner with Salim and his wife Aysha in their dining room above the restaurant. Children of varying ages circulate haphazardly. Dopheld attempts to count them, but gives up. There are at least six.  
         “You,” Aysha announces with a quick jab of her finger to Dopheld’s shoulder. “Make this man marry you. For his sake. He needs you to keep from giving himself heart attack. Stress kills.”  
         “I know. He already takes medication for blood pressure. But you should see how much caf he drinks.” Luckily the general is currently engaged in another deep discussion with Salim, apparently once again about the intricacies of geopolitics.  
         “You want children?”  
         “Perhaps.” Dopheld wants them, at least three. He grew up in a large family, and being surrounded by another at the moment is making him resolve to broach the topic with Armitage.  
         “Good. When he is father, he will learn what matters. It will calm a man down.”  
         They return to their temporary home sated and content, holding hands as they walk down the dark beach.  
         “I’d like a family,” Dopheld murmurs later that night. The bedroom is illuminated by small gas lanterns that give out a warm, flickering light that lends Hux’s hair an otherworldly glow.  
         “With me?” Armitage asks, incredulous.  
         “Of course with you.” Watching Hux’s expression devolve from surprise to doubt, Dopheld doesn’t know what to say.  
         “I—” The redhead takes a long, steadying breath. “I don’t think I’d be any good at it. I’m barely a decent boyfriend. And I didn’t have the best experience with my own family, growing up.”  
         “You’re not your father,” Dopheld points out.  
         “I’m more his son that I’d like to believe,” Hux says darkly.  
         Mitaka lets the discussion go for now. Instead of harping on Armitage’s good points, he chooses to straddle the man’s lap and lean down for a soft kiss. “I love you,” he whispers.  
         Armitage’s eyes widen as they usually do at this declaration. “See? How can you say it that easily?”  
         Because he knows it on a visceral level, he recognises his love in the space between every breath. “You’re getting better at it.”  
         “I’m irredeemably cold,” Hux snaps.  
         “Are not.” Removing his light shirt, Dopheld shuffles between Armitage’s legs and pulls down his shorts.  
         “Pfassk, Dopheld,” Armitage gasps as Dopheld’s mouth finds its target. “Maker, you gorgeous thing. I can’t possibly deserve you.”  
          _Listen to you,_ Mitaka thinks. _You’re learning._


End file.
